A Day in the Life

It could get really, well, you know, dull. Once you’ve built a fort out of used fifty pound notes during your working hours there’s precious little else to hold your attention. Except building a bigger fort. The staff of BDI lived with the knowledge that their foreign holidays were courtesy of the painful suffering of smokers but it had all gone stale as sales waned.

Once upon a time they would all go to see cars drive around in circles, to see which car was the best at going round in circles that week. The cars were sexy. Black and gold, red and white – sexy, sexy cars surrounded by sexy men and women. Death was incredibly sexy.

But that was in the past when real blokes sported fantastic sideburns. The present was all about plain green packets and an inability to tell anybody about how their cancer canes tasted so much better than the ones made by American Tar Baccy Ltd. No one went into the Marketing Department these days; it was like asking someone how they were feeling only for them to actually tell you.

Aneka dropped a pack of fivers on the floor as Rashid’s pen slipped and made it look like all cease and desist letters had been victims of their own advice. What in the 9 circles of Hell was that infernal din? It sounded like salsa. It was. It was the same noise that comes from a village hall full of overweight middle-aged women trying to slim the fun way.

Pushing the marketing door ajar and avoiding the falling cobwebs, Sven exclaimed: “What the hell are you doing? Stop it. Stop it now.”

As the music pounded, Oliver rubbed himself against the office curtains. This would have constituted abnormal behaviour at the best of times, but seeing as Oliver was naked bar a liberal covering of NowthatsprobablynotbbutterbutIreallycanttell it verged on the obscene.

“I’m celebrating,” explained the naked self-emulsified entity busy frotting against every item of office furniture.

The office staff were fully aware that there was always the potential for something like this to happen given that Oliver previously worked for Tory Central Office. “It’s the Tobacco Products Directive – we’ve won! Happy days are here again!” Oh happy days. Oliver left Rashid’s shirt translucent following an exuberant hug.

“We’ve bloody won! They’ve given us the entire vape market. In-store displays at point of sale, instruction videos with glamorous presenters – we can do the bloody lot and only we can afford the ridiculous documentation process. I have a purpose in life once more!”

Then Oliver’s eyes fell on a copy of the Daily Mirror: “45,684 supporters have signed a petition supporting the Lord’s motion”.

“Oh shit,” Oliver whimpered. The music died immediately after the marketing office door click shut. Akeka picked up the £5 notes and threw them in the bin. It wasn’t quite a normal day in the offices of British Deathsticks Incorporated.

Please sign the petition.

#LordsVapeVote